Reason to Remember
by nurzubesuch
Summary: When you think you know your life and the people in it, what would you do when you suddenly wake up in a completely new reality? A seemingly normal case to stop criminals from sabotaging the new railroad leads Valjean and Javert on a train ride of the special type ... and it s not clear what the destination will be.
1. Defenders of the Law

**Hello, dear readers. I know I´ve been away for a while, but I was asked for a "Christmas gift", and when asked so nicely it´s hard to say no. And since I didn´t write this story to keep it to myself, here we go ...**

 **Disclaimer: It´s obvious since this is fanfiction but I say it anyway: This story might be mine but the characters and settings are the brainchild of one Victor Hugo. I do not make any money with this.**

* * *

 **Defenders of the Law**

It all began with a simple decision. And to be honest this decision had not even been theirs. But then again, to be totally honest … it _had_ been. Because taking Vidocq´s advice had been a choice, not an order. And he´d been the one to always tell them, to never, ever let family get in the way with business. The bastard. But in the end he had been right, of course. Because had they gone on this mission alone, without Cosette and Marius and the kids … maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe.

But who´d ever be able to tell …

 **...**

It wasn´t the first train to ever drive through the lands of France. The railway between Roanne and Lyon was there for 3 years after all. But it was the first one Valjean ever got to see – and ride. A monster colossus, a snake that ran over the land in an insane speed, screaming and spitting steam like a giant metal dragon, faster than any fiacre he´d ever been on.

He knew, technically it wasn´t all that fast. 48 miles per hour was still a measurable speed for some. But he´d seen people fall off carriages, one very bad case in particular who had ended up with several broken bones, one of them his skull, and he was sure that if anyone should ever fall out of this new age monster, they would not be so lucky.

Respectively nervous did he feel, having to ride this beast. And even more to have his whole family enter it. Dammit, he should have never allowed Vidocq to convince him about this insanity. But back then he hadn´t known.

"You simply take the train down to Lyon." he´d said. "Take the family. No one will suspect anything. It´ll be just a family vacation. It´ll be fun, you´ll see."

The only problem was that inbetween all that fun there was a very serious component. How serious he had only realized when he´d been on the train, and had seen with his own eyes how fast the landscape rushed by. Dear God, why had he ever allowed Cosette to get on this train? If anything was going to happen … How could Vidocq ever dare to even suggest bringing her along? He knew what they were up against.

"Papa?" she startled him out of his musing, just as they took their seats in their compartment, and for a moment he felt caught red handed.

"What, dear?" he put on his best innocent face. "What is it?"

The young woman gazed from her father to Javert for a moment, exasperated, as if she indeed knew what was going on. God, of course she knew. By now it had to be obvious, even to the most oblivious person. Still she didn´t say it. She only sighed.

"Could you do me a favor and just … stay seated this time?" she asked him. "At least for a while. You´re making me nervous."

Valjean laughed out, almost too much to sound honest. "I´m sorry, Cosette. But I´ve been sitting in the fiacre all the way to Roanne. My old bones need movement. Let me be excited in my old days. This is an event."

"I felt so too." Cosette spoke, halfheartedly. "For the first two track sections … five hours ago. But I have seen the train now. I´m sure this one is not much different from the others."

"Oh, but you can´t know that." Valjean attempted to keep up the deception, and Cosette rolled her eyes, slumping down in her seat. Marius sat beside her, silently watching, wisely staying out of the discussion.

"Why was that last one pulled by horses?" Pascal was the only one who was seriously interested. "Why didn´t it have one of those …" the boy halted, searching the word.

"Locos." Michelle, his sister by fate helped him out, without even looking up from her book. "Short form for locomotive."

Pascal was not the only one who frowned at her, and finally the young redhead looked up, startled about all the gazes that lay on her. "One of the train guards told me. That´s how they call it."

"See?" Valjean instantly took advantage of this spin of the conversation. "It _is_ interesting. How often do we get to discover something like this? A new development like this. The verge of a new age. The modern miracle … of this millennium. Mostly …"

"Seriously?" Javert regarded him, most doubtful and Valjean blushed.

"Too much?"

Javert closed his eyes, patiently. "Way too much."

The old man composed himself, embarrassed. God, he just wished they could be somewhere else. Not on this death trap. Thanks God, no one could see he was shaking.

Cosette only shook her head. "It´s all right." she said. "Go. Do whatever you have to and … take care."

Valjean was sure she knew. Even about the risk, the danger they were all in, should actually happen what they suspected. Of course she knew. She´d been there these last two years, learned to interpret all the gestures and secret conspiring gazes between him and Javert. By now she knew when something was up. But of course he couldn´t just say that. He was too used to keep up the act, and old habits were hard to get rid off.

"Don´t worry." Javert unobtrusively shoved him out of the door. "I´ll keep an eye on him. Like always."

"We´ll be fine." Valjean assured them all, catching one last glimpse of Cosette, who seemed to silently admonish Javert to better keep his word. And then the door was closed, the little unlikely family safely out of earshot. Valjean finally allowed himself to let go.

"Dear God." he exhaled, exhausted. "I´ll be so glad when this journey is over. My legs are going numb from all that walking."

"Is anyone asking _me_?" Javert replied. "It´s the last track before Lyon. So pull yourself together, old man, and do your part."  
Valjean watched him make his way down the hallway, expecting him to take the other direction, and for an instant he couldn´t help but sulk at the remark.

"I´m always doing my part." he mumbled, and caught sight of Javert briefly turning back over his shoulder, smirking unnoticeable. He didn´t give a response.

...

In another part of the train a group of three gathered together. A train guard opened the door for his two accomplices and without anyone seeing or hearing a thing, they vanished inside. This part of the train was not open for public. And that made it perfect for the task they had to accomplish.

Their orders had been clear, and so they would be done. The mail car it would be. If they did it right, it would take the rest of the train with it anyway. And they intended to do it right.

...

Valjean didn´t like to climb over the verge. Every time he had to get from one car to the next, he felt like jumping over a ravine with a raging river deep down in its bowels. He saw the land rush by, only a tiny view, but this limit made it look even more dangerous and insane. He saw the tracks, below, almost no conturs to make out anymore, only this blurred something that only was solid ground because his head remembered.

Oh God, why did he always look? It didn´t make it any better. Why? The space between the two sides wasn´t that wide. Just one step and … don´t trip.

His heart pounded every time. Just don´t think about it. Keep moving. Javert had to be halfway to the locomotive by now.

One of the train guards passed him in the hallway, nodding at him, and Valjean returned the nod.

"Everything quiet back there." he reported, just to have said something at all.

"Here too." the man replied and gosh, he seemed even more tensed than Valjean. Maybe he too didn´t like the climbing exercises.

"Good." Valjean exhaled, not trying to hide his exhaustion. He´d made the experience that it helped to crack the ice. And they were practically working with these men, to keep their train safe. The guard nodded, understandingly.

"I don´t think you need to check again." he mentioned. "This part back here is closed to the public anyway. And I haven´t seen anyone."

"Oh, that is good." Valjean repeated. "Spares me to climb over two more of these." he gestured for the death trap he´d just managed and the guard frowned, only a moment before he understood.

"You need help to get back?" he offered, almost too eager to guide Valjean back this instant.

"No, no, I´m fine." Valjean denied politely. "I … just take a minute to catch my breath, before I go back."

"I could wait … until you´re ready."

"No need to. I don´t want to keep you from your duty. Please, carry on. I´ll be fine."

The young man nodded, not too happy, but he left nonetheless. Valjean leaned against the wall, and watched how the train guard climbed over to the car he´d come from only a minute ago. When the man turned back to him, he put on a polite smile, and at last the man actually vanished through the door.

And right as the door closed Valjean gave up his pose of complete exhaustion and crossed the rest of the hallway. One more interstice separated this last inhabited car from the closed off mail car. The already checked mail car, according to this guard. But something just told him, no, he must see for himself. Never simply believe what people tell you, always check for yourself. And something about this train guard had made his guts grumble.

For a moment he halted. Why had he not considered this before? A part of the train that was closed to the public. It was the perfect place to commit an act like the one they were investigating. Dammit. Javert had to be on the far end of the train by now. Too far to fetch him for backup. And the behavior of this train guard had seemed rushed, even though well hidden.

No. Valjean was sure that if he waited, it could be too late. So he gathered all his strength and strangely the interstice was not so hard to cross this time. In fact, he barely noticed. His focus was on his gun, hidden under his coat, now ready for use, should he truly find what he expected. And indeed, he´d barely reached the door, when muffled voices met his ear. Dammit.

He carefully opened the door, only a creak to hear better. It wasn´t easy over the noise of the rushing train.

" … longer fuse. We´ll need time to get some space between us and that thing. Do you want this to blow up in our own faces?"

"Calm down, I got it."

"I hope you do."

"We´ll be on the train in any case, or do you want to jump out?"

"I just don´t want to be in the very car with that thing."

"I know."

"I´ve calculated the range of the explosion, and if we hold on we can be fine, when the thing derails."

"Would you stop talking and let me do my thing? I need to focus."

Valjean´s heart was pounding but the thought of Cosette and his little family made him act, before he knew what was happening.

"Hold it right there." he demanded, aiming his gun at the two men currently bowed over what appeared to be a package of powder. "Raise your hands where I can see them. And step away from this … thing."

The two men glanced at each other for a moment, as if debating. And for a second Valjean was sure they´d actually surrender and raise their hands as he had demanded. But instead they drew guns of their own, aiming at him, just as he aimed at them.

"Drop it, pal." they demanded, but of course Valjean could not simply comply.

"The whole staff of train guards is looking for you." he informed them. "You have nowhere to go."

"We don´t need to." was the cool response and that was the moment, Valjean heard the steps behind him. And the click of another gun.

...

Javert was on his way back, having checked the locomotive right on schedule. Knowing Valjean, he was sure the old man was probably not finished yet. He also knew the old man would need help getting back over all those interstices, so Javert made his way back, to meet up with him.

God, if this man would be just a bit more the way he´d been when he was younger, Javert would have a more efficient partner. They had separated in the middle of the train, and now he was well on his way through the whole thing, a second time, while Valjean probably hadn´t even managed his own half. There were days when Javert felt like a babysitter.

He checked the compartment, just to make sure Valjean hadn´t rejoined the family after all, but he hadn´t.

"Is everything all right?" Cosette asked, already in the process of getting up, but Javert raised a hand.

"Of course." he said. "Just stay seated."

And that was it. No explanation or reassuring words. It would be too much in any case and would only raise more questions. So he closed the door and walked on, not caring if he´d just irritated them. Valjean was better with this and he could apologize for him later, when they were back. Like he always did.

...

Valjean hit the ground, barely able to catch his own fall with his shoulder. His elbow sent pins and needles up his arm, and his instinctive try to bring his arms before his body was painfully stopped by the ropes these men had hastily wound around his wrists and ankles.

"What do we do now?" he heard one of them ask, nervously.

"Leave him here." the much calmer train guard answered. "When they find him in the remains at least they´ll have a suspect.

"He´ll die."

"You rather want to go to jail? Now come on, light that fuse and let´s get out of here."

Valjean struggled, viciously, to get back to his feet, but a ruthless kick into his guts kept him where he was.

...

It was strange to say the least. He had almost reached the end of the train and still no sign of Valjean. And Javert had been an inspector way too long to not be alarmed by now. Something was wrong. He just knew. Dammit, this idiot had probably managed it again to get himself into trouble without him. He just hoped he wasn´t hurt. If he was, he wouldn´t be able to strangle him when this was over.

The last car that held compartments for travelers seemed eerily abandoned, as if the people knew it was better to stay inside. Maybe it wasn´t even entirely occupied. Javert didn´t care. Right now all he cared about was Valjean. He had to be in the back. And that alone could only mean trouble.

He knew just how much trouble when he reached the door, and found it locked.

"Jean!"

...

Valjean had just about reached the slowly burning fuse with his foot, trying to put it out, when he heard the knock on the door, and Javert´s voice, calling him.

"Antoine!" he answered, and the fuse slipped away from under his foot, happily burning on.

He cursed and tried to catch it again. Stop burning you …

"I´m in here!"

...

"Oh, really?" Javert threw his shoulder against the door, but it was locked safely. No chance to get in there. And god dammit, somehow he knew time was running out.

Against all his instincts and better knowledge he drew his pistol and used the only bullet he had, to shoot the lock. If anyone should have attacked him now, he would have been dead.

Thanks God no one was there. Only Valjean, lying on the floor, tied up like a package, awkwardly trying to stump out a fuse that was almost burned down.

Javert was with him in an instant, and tore off the fuse, before it could blow them both into eternity. On the ground Valjean exclaimed, slacking down at last.

"What happened." Javert began untying him, and his partner sighed, annoyed.

"Do you really have to ask?"

"You´re an idiot. I told you not to do anything without me."

"There was no time."

"Where did they go?"

Valjean grunted, and struggled to his feet.

"How many possibilities are there?" he answered, already heading for the other door, at the end of the car, and Javert followed.

They didn´t come very far. Just outside, they suddenly faced three guns, aiming at them from the other side of the interstice.

"I told you the explosion should have happened by now." one of them said.

"Hands up." the other one demanded, and the two of them obeyed, grudgingly.

"You´re not much better than me, inspector." Valjean mumbled.

And Javert answered him through gritted teeth. "Shut up."

...

It was truly ridiculous and more than just a bit embarrassing. He´d wanted to rub it in, that Valjean had ended up like that, and now he got tied up right along with him. The lack of rope left their feet untied but facing two guns made them sit still while a new fuse got attached to the makeshift bomb. Javert´s thoughts were racing, and not for the best. They needed to do something.

He fiddled, wriggling in his ties, and glared at the men, only so they wouldn´t pay attention to his hands. The knife was well hidden, but usually easy to access. Usually. If he only could … just a bit more … and then at last he had it. Unseen by the criminals, he began to saw on his rope. And then just as the third man was about to light the fuse again, the door Javert had left ajar, got opened, startling them all. And when Javert saw who was standing in that door, his heart skipped a beat.

"Monsieur Javert!" Pascal cried out, taking in this unexpected scene. "What are you doing?"

"Pascal, run!" Javert shouted. "Run, boy!"

But the surprise of finding his two benefactors in such a situation, was too much, even for this quick kid, to react in time. One of the men grabbed him before he could run and dragged him into the car.

Javert, still not done cutting his rope, reacted on instinct when he jumped up and attacked.

He´d made the experience before, that it was not a good idea to lose your head like that, and act emotional, especially in a situation like this. And he was once again reminded why. He managed to throw himself into one of those men, but his attack was fended way too easy, and in the end he didn´t even remember how he ended up on the ground again. All he knew was that he´d lost his knife and that his stomach cramped painfully from the punch he had received.

Valjean dropped to his knees beside him, worry and anger written all over his face. But checking on him was not his only intention. When Javert saw him swipe the knife out of their enemies´ sight to pick it up behind his back, Javert felt so immensely grateful, he almost forgot for a moment, that there was still a boy to protect. Almost.

"Don´t you dare hurting that kid!" he roared at the criminals, and sure enough, the man holding Pascal hesitated.

"He´s right." he addressed his accomplices. "He´s just a kid."

The dirty train guard grunted. "Oh, take him with you then." he decided at last. "Come on now. Or we´ll be in Lyon before we finish this."

Javert did not have to catch Valjean´s gaze. The man was looking at him just then, asking for advice. And Javert gestured, with his head. More it didn´t need, and Valjean understood. Good man.

...

Michelle had not intended to walk that far. A few cars was the most she had planned when she´d followed Pascal, this silly kid, to keep him from getting into trouble. But now that she was already here, this last car had been just a hop. And hearing the voices that she heard now, she suddenly knew it was good she had followed Pascal.

She peeked through the door, just as a man lit a match and held it to a fuse. She saw Javert and Valjean, both on the ground, and two men, holding Pascal halfway out the other door.

"No!" she cried, just as the man with the match jumped up … only to fall right back down when Valjean´s legs wound themselves around his ankles.

"Michelle, run!" Pascal yelled, and with only the slightest feeling of guilt, for leaving them all behind, Michelle obeyed, and ran back where she´d come from, screaming for somebody to come and help. She knew the train guards had to be close.

...

Valjean watched Javert jump up, and throw himself shoulder first into the two men threatening Pascal. His hands were still bound. And that was all Valjean could dare to notice about his friend, before he had to turn his attention to the man currently encircled in his legs. He had a tight enough hold on him, to keep him on the ground.

"You want to blow up along with me?" he asked. "Do you?"

The man glanced at the burning fuse, almost at the powder and finally decided he did not want to die.

Valjean couldn´t recall later on, how he could have worked like that, but his mind had switched to another mode and somehow he managed it to simultaneously hold this criminal in check and cut his ropes with Javert´s knife until his hands were finally free again.

The powder was no threat anymore, the fuse lay far away from it, and one kick to the criminals head was enough to knock him out. But it had taken time, too much obviously, because Valjean heard the screams and he already knew it was too late.

He ran, outside, to help, and saw Javert getting pushed. He saw him stumble, lose halt and fall, through the opening in the handrail. The last thing he saw was his eyes, helplessly searching him, asking him to help and catch him, where he couldn´t hold himself, with his hands still bound behind his back. And then he was gone, just like this.

Before he even had a chance to do anything but stare in shock, Valjean got attacked. He heard Pascal scream Javert´s name but all he could do was struggle, instinctively fighting those hands that tried to push him out as well.

No, his mind was screaming. This couldn´t have happened. Antoine … the train … way too fast … his hands had been bound. This just couldn´t be real. It mustn´t be.

His shock almost made him the second victim of those men, and he soon would have joined Javert, had not suddenly someone aimed a gun at his attackers. He heard several strong commands and only a minute later the three saboteurs were arrested by the train guards.

"Monsieur." Marius´ voice separated from all the others, and woke Valjean from his daze.  
He took merely a moment to take in the scene – Pascal, he was shaken but all right – before he rushed to the handrail. But Javert was gone. Nothing he saw did anything to ease his skyrocketing fear.

"We need to stop the train, immediately." he cried, but got only a confused frown in return. "Did you not hear me?"

"Only the driver can stop the train." the train guard responded, still uncertain but Valjean did not stay to explain himself. He needed to save his friend. If he could still be saved.

Of course he can, his heart demanded to be louder than his mind. This is Javert. He´s alive. He doesn´t just die like that. Even though this train is insanely fast, and the slope out there neckbreakingly steep, and his hands were still tied when he fell …

Valjean ran, through the whole train, not caring anymore about all the interstices he had to cross to reach the locomotive. It took too long. Way too long! Eventually he was there, storming in, panting like a mad man.

"Stop." he demanded, making everyone jump. "Stop this train. My friend fell out, we need to look for him. I said stop this train!"

"We´re almost in Lyon, monsieur." someone told him, as two pairs of hands kept him from grabbing the lever himself. "Please. It´ll only be a few more minutes. See?" the man gestured ahead, and indeed Valjean could see the city coming closer rapidly.

"You can call for help there, to look for him." the train driver reasoned with him, and seeing how he would not convince anyone in this locomotive, to stop and turn this whole train around, Valjean finally succumbed, praying in silence, that it wouldn´t cost his friend´s life.

...

It was a torture. The few minutes it took him to assemble a search and rescue team to come with him and find Javert, felt like an eternity. Every second that passed by could make the difference between life and death.

Vidocq had arranged a meeting with the local police for them, but it was more than obvious that the man in charge was not happy to get orders from Valjean. A stranger.

Valjean couldn´t care less. Should he hate him. This was about Antoine´s life. Not even Cosette´s concern about him riding out alone with six police men, could slow him down. He had ordered police for years in Montreuil, he´d be able to handle them now. When Marius offered to come along, he knew he only did it for Cosette´s peace of mind, not out of concern for Antoine. No one seemed to believe they´d find him alive. Except him. After everything this man had done, and for Marius too by the way.

Of course he was alive. He just had to be. He was out there, probably hurt, maybe badly. But he was alive and they´d find him.

Only they didn´t. They just didn´t. And when in the evening a man joined them and called out that inspector Taillon had given order for them to turn back and head home, Valjean almost jumped out of his saddle.

"We can´t leave." he roared. "We haven´t found him yet."

"We won´t find him in the dark." the officer explained, and Valjean wanted to grab and shake him.

"He´ll die if we leave him."

"You can keep searching, monsieur. I won´t stop you, as long as you return the horse in the morning. But …"

"We came here to help _you_." Valjean shouted. "You owe us."

But his agitation and anger left the officer unimpressed. "We have our orders." he told him. "I´m sorry."

And with that they turned away, to practically leave Javert for death. Valjean couldn´t remember when he´d last been so shocked and yet so angry, ready to kill someone in his rage. How could they? How?

"Maybe they´re right." Marius dared to speak up and flinched under Valjean´s glare. "It is turning dark. We wouldn´t even see him in the dark."

Valjean just turned his horse, away from him. He shouldn´t have expected anything else. This boy was nothing but a waste of time. Why was he here if he didn´t even want to find Javert? He´d keep searching on his own if no one wanted to help.

"Maybe he isn´t even out here anymore." Marius followed. "Don´t you think we would have found him by now? We searched the whole track."

"You can go back." Valjean spoke, eyes straight ahead. "I won´t stop you."

"Please, come with me, monsieur."

"No."

"Javert wouldn´t want you to …"

"You don´t know what Javert would want me to do." Valjean snapped, but this time it didn´t make Marius flinch.

"I believe he´d tell you the same thing. That looking out here in the dark is useless. We should try to find him in the area. There are farms, and little villages. Maybe he found a way to one of those. It´s possible that he already found help. Otherwise we would have found his body out here."

Valjean glowered down on the younger man. This last remark made his heart tighten unexpectedly hurtful. There was no body out here to be found!

So maybe Marius was right after all. God, please, let him be right.

"All right." he turned his horse, ready to search out the next farm right away.

"Tomorrow." Marius stopped him, as gentle as he could. "Please, be reasonable."

"If this would have been one of your friends you´d keep looking too." Valjean replied, unable to keep the hurt from his voice.

"Maybe." the boy´s gaze was too soft for fighting. "But a wise man once told me to learn patience."

Valjean wanted to stay angry, defensive, stubborn. But the gaze he saw now, and the words he´d heard, were simply too honest and too reasonable, it almost shocked him. He knew Marius used his own weapons against him – reminding him to listen to his own advice – but it didn´t help. The young lawyer had gotten through to him, against all odds. And there was nothing he could do.

* * *

 **All right, I´m ready to receive feedback. Don´t be kind. Just be honest.**

 **And thanks for reading.**


	2. Like the Stars that never Change

**Like the Stars that never Change**

The ground was shaking, making his head ache as if a glowing iron was driven through it. Any more and his skull would split open, he was sure of it. Where was he? What was happening? And what was that stench?

His hand began searching, blindly, and found some scrubby fur. Whatever it was, jumped at his touch and was at him, a second later. He heard a curious growling, a moment before his face was inspected by a cold nose.

The painful shaking of the ground beneath him stopped and stumping feet even louder than the rumbling before, made his brain scream in agony. Someone was by his side, the dog skipping back for its owner.

"Lay still." an old voice instructed him. "Lay still. You´re hurt, monsieur. Better don´t tempt your luck."

Javert managed to make out a face. Old, wrinkled, thin.

"Who are you?" he asked, barely able to speak.

"My name´s Arnaud. Bertrand. My home is not far from here, we´re almost there."

"Here." Javert tried to look about and had to give up. It was night and he couldn´t even see over the rim of the cart. And his head was spinning. "Where are we?"

"Oh like … ten kilometers from Lyon."

"Lyon?"

"Yes."

Javert managed to get his hand up to touch his head and learned quickly to better let this be.

"What happened?"

"I don´t know, monsieur. I found you, lying by the tracks so I assume you had an accident."

"Tracks?"

The man looking down on him frowned deeply at this – God his face swam away to the left again and again – he wanted to ask a question, Javert could tell, but in the end he only told him:

"You just keep it slow. I´ll bring you to my house and then you can rest. Before tomorrow we won´t be able to do anything. My wife can call the doctor. He lives nearby."

Javert leaned back, not objecting, and the old man accepted his silent content, climbing back to the coach seat.

"What´s your name by the way?" he asked when he picked up the reins.

"Javert. Inspector with the Paris police."

"Paris." Bertrand reacted confused. "What are you doing here in Lyon?"

But even thinking about this made Javert´s head hurt much worse again. "I don´t know." he sighed. "I can´t remember."

...

Valjean had believed the failure was the worst, the despair and almost loss of hope, to still find Antoine alive and well – stop thinking like that, he´s all right, he always is – but he soon had to learn that this wasn´t true. The worst was Cosette and the kids, awaiting them at the inn, eyes asking as soon as they walked in. And he just didn´t have the strength to calm their minds. Not after this day.

"Papa!" but Cosette stopped, dead in her tracks, seeing his tired eyes. "Did you …? I-is Javert …?"

"We didn´t find him." Marius took over, instantly turning to calm the kids. "But that is only good." he told them. "It means he didn´t die there. We believe he made his way someplace where he could find help. He´s a strong man. He surely found someone to help him. You´ll see. Tomorrow we´ll receive word from him."

No one spoke a word after that. Neither against nor for it. There was only this heavy silence of uncertainty and worry. And for a moment Valjean believed to feel it almost physically, pressing down on him.

"Papa?"

He tried to smile for her, but for the first time in years he couldn´t.

"I´m sure he´s right." forming words was easier but his voice still sounded broken. And he had no way to hide this. Eventually he turned away and went to his room without another word. Cosette did not try to hold him back. Eventually the door fell into the lock, a solid weight in his back.

He couldn´t believe this was really happening. Antoine. He couldn´t be gone. He just couldn´t. Not now. Not ever. He´d been there all these years. This fact alone proved that the idea of him being dead was just ridiculous. Not like this, when Valjean had been there to stop it. He couldn´t just go and leave him behind.

Valjean had no idea, no comprehension at all, what he would do without him. He was his friend, his partner, his comrade through all the highs and lows of life, especially in times as uncertain as these. Times that were not theirs anymore. He didn´t know how he should face this alone. Not anymore. Not anymore.

...

Javert took a deep breath. The bandage around his head seemed too tight, his whole body way too warm, and the throbbing of his head wound would not stop for a while, he just knew that.

"Monsieur. Would you look up, please?" the doctor held up a candle, right before his face: "Look into the light." he instructed him, and brought a hand before Javert´s eye. He removed it quickly, a few times in a row.

"Do you feel dizzy, monsieur?"

"Yes."

"Did it get worse just now, when I removed my hand?"

Javert thought about it for a second, and nodded.

The doctor straightened. "Well, I guess that was to be expected." he sat down the candle. "You have a concussion. So far I´m hopeful that it is only a slight one and that you will completely recover from it. But you need to take a few days off and rest."

"I can´t. I need to find out what happened to me. And why I´m not in Paris."

The medic frowned, thinking deeply. "This memory loss of yours concerns me. What is the last thing you remember?"

Javert had never found it harder to think than in this moment. It was as if his mind was sluggish, slowed down like that of an old man. Much older than he actually was.

"I was walking my beat." he answered at last. "Like always." He tried to think harder, but couldn´t recall anything specific.

"You can´t remember preparing for a journey to Lyon?" the doctor asked and Javert shook his head, a little too harsh. He needed to recover from the movement before he could inform his hosts about the facts.

"We were preparing for the funeral the next day. A tumult was expected. We´d need every capable man in the streets. To leave the city at this time, would be as good as treason."

When Javert noticed the strange silence, he glanced up. This time it wasn´t only the doctor who frowned at him in irritation.

"The funeral?" he repeated. "You don´t mean the funeral of one General Lamarque, by any chance, do you?"

"Yes. Why?"

A few uncertain glances were exchanged before the man informed him: "Monsieur, this man died three years ago."  
Javert blinked, his head spinning again. What?

"There was a tumult, I read about it in the papers. But … I´m afraid your memory loss is more severe than we thought. If you lost the last three years …"

Javert tried to rise, but his brain instantly demanded him to sit back down, with a pain that felt as if he´d been knocked over the head. What?

"Slow down." the doctor´s hand steadied him.

"I need to get back to Paris. I need to … find out …"

"You, sir, need to rest. And take it slow."

"I need to know what happened to me. I might have been on a mission. If I don´t report back, the criminals who attacked me might get away."

For a moment the doctor seemed uncertain. "You remember being attacked then?"

"It must have been that way. Why else would I be here now? And without my uniform."

"It could have been an accident. The trains are not as safe as I´d like them to be and if you fell out for what reason ever …"

"Trains?" Javert again felt the room spin around him.

"You´re confused." the doctor decided to end the talk. "That´s normal. Take your time. I guess you´ll be up for a few more surprises."

"We could bring you to Lyon tomorrow." Bertrand offered. "Maybe inspector Taillon knows you and can tell you why you´re here."

"Yeah." Javert didn´t know anything else to do than nod. "That … that sounds like a plan."

"Just try to keep it slow." the old medic sighed. "I fear if you strain your head too much so shortly after this injury, it could only worsen your condition."

"I´ll try to be careful, doctor."

"I give you something for the headaches."

Javert leaned back while the good doctor took the medicine out of his bag. Something bad had happened, he just knew that. If only his head would stop hurting. If only he could finally remember.

...

The night had been too long, and without any rest at all. When Valjean came down the stairs he felt it in every bone of his body and even more so weighting on his mind. But none of this mattered. He had no time to waste.

"I need a map of this area." he told the innkeeper´s wife at the counter, a little less friendly than he would have been had it been about anything less than his friend´s life. "It would be a great help if you could mark for me all the farms and little villages in the near area. And if you know any other place where my friend could have gone to, please, tell me about it."

"Of course." the woman was sympathetic enough not to ask any more questions but go to work instantly, marking the map as best as she could. Valjean was on his way to the front door, but obviously Marius had been out even sooner than him.

"I prepared two horses." he informed him. "They´re ready whenever you want to leave."

For a moment Valjean was taken aback, but his anger was still too deep to simply accept this. So the only response he was capable of was: "You don´t have to come with me, Marius."

"Yes." the younger man objected. "I do."

"Did Cosette ask you to do this?"

"No."

The entrance of another man ended their discussion before it could even start. He was wearing a suit, neat and flawless, just like back then, when he´d visited Paris to hire them, in the name of the train company.

Valjean almost shouted at him to turn around and leave him alone, for he knew he surely wasn´t here to ask for news about Javert. If he even knew what had happened.

"Oh, good. Monsieur." the man exclaimed. "I´m glad to catch you before you leave. You´re on your way to the station-house I assume."

"Actually no." Valjean answered brusquely. "I´m leaving town."

"We." Marius corrected, and confronted with a new source for his anger, Valjean didn´t have it in him to object anymore.

"You´re leaving town?" their contractor asked, uncertain, and Valjean turned his back on him.

"My friend is missing." he stated, taking the finished map from the innkeeper´s wife. "Someone needs to look for him."

"Missing."

"He got pushed out of your train." Valjean swirled around. "This death trap you call a transportation device. And while we´re at it. How is it, that the handrails are not closed to keep people from falling out? How are the interstices not secured? Do you have any idea what would happen if someone slipped and fell? What if a child falls into one of those? Or an old person? I believe saboteurs are not the only issue your train company has to deal with."

"Excuse me, monsieur."

"No, you´ll excuse me. And you better hope that Javert isn´t hurt too badly. Because if he is, you´ll hear from me again."

"I don´t understand."

"I think you do."

Marius stepped forward, as if by coincidence, but it was clear, at least to Valjean, that his presence was the only reason – and not by coincidence – why he hadn´t grabbed the man.

"You can´t be serious." the businessman spoke, unaware of the risk for his health. "Sir, I´m sorry about your friend, but what happened to him wasn´t our fault."

Valjean was boiling, but Marius action had made him aware of how close he´d been to lose control. "You can tell yourself whatever you want." he said instead of arguing any further. "But you´re as responsible as those criminals. If your train would be safe none of this would have happened." And that was the last thing he´d say about this. He didn´t wait for a response but turned around and marched to the door.

"The safety of the trains is why we hired you." the businessman called after him, demanding. "And this job is not finished yet."

"It is for me. You have your culprits."

"They´re claiming to be merely hired. Which means the real organizers of these acts of sabotage are still out there. And they could attack again."

Valjean halted briefly, just on the threshold. "The police can take care of this." he then decided. "Your inspector doesn´t want me to meddle in his business anyway. And I have a friend to find. Good day."

...

The fresh air was good, soothing Javert´s still throbbing headache. But the medicine had done a good enough job, enabling him to at least sit on this cart without feeling dizzy anymore. Even though it still shook and jumped over stones and through potholes. Javert was more than relieved when it stopped at last. At the train station.

"I need to deliver this wood before we drive you to the police." Bertrand apologized but Javert climbed off the coach seat, barely noticing the assisting hand the madame offered him to keep him from swaying.

"It´s all right." he assured them, ignoring the curious sniffing of their old mutt. "I can make my way into town on my own. You´ve done enough."

The gazes he received were uncertain, and considering his still battered state, he believed to know why. But he´d rather walk the rest of the way than to ride one more meter on this old cart.

"I will reward you for your help as soon as I get back to Paris." he promised and instantly the two of them shook their heads.

"That´s really not necessary, inspector." Bertrand said. "You were hurt. Everyone would have done the same thing."

"Maybe. Maybe not. In any case a reward is only just. I have your address. So you´ll hear from me."

"We´d love to get word from you." the wife smiled. "To know that you made it back safely."

Javert nodded curtly. "Thank you again."

And with that he turned about, determined not to bother them any longer, or to receive any more of those worried glances. He wasn´t dead after all. He only didn´t know how he´d gotten here, to Lyon. But he´d find out soon enough. All he needed was a decent police station-house, from where he could contact his superiors in Paris … and someone to give him a straight answer.

He left the train shed facing the city of Lyon ahead of him, when suddenly a voice made him halt.

" … saw them get arrested." a man spoke in a hushed tone. "They were led away in cuffs."

Javert knew that kind of tone. It was the way people spoke when they didn´t believe to be overheard, talking about something illegal. Years of service had taught him to recognize it instantly.

"Now I know why I didn´t see the train derail last night." a second man answered the first and Javert made his way to the corner, to get a look at who was talking there. "Well, saves me the trouble to stock up my bag again."

"Which bag?"

"Never mind. Guess it´s obsolete now to go to my meeting with them."

Javert peeked around the edge carefully, and spotted two men, not by coincidence standing away from public view.

"Thanks for keeping an eye open for me." the taller one said now.

"Thanks for paying me well." the other one smirked and held out his hand. He got some money, combined with a fed up eye roll. "Anything else you need from me?"

"I´ll let you know. And don´t forget. I´ve never been here."

"´f course not. You know me, Luc."

"Don´t say my name." the man replied, but to Javert he didn´t sound too worried. As if the name he´d given to this man wasn´t even his real one in the first place. Obviously a professional. A big fish worth catching. This city might not be his jurisdiction, but he was still a police man. And coming upon a criminal like this, only left him with one option.

He hid, to let the man step out and make his way towards the city. When he was sure none of those two had noticed him, he followed after him.

...

"Don´t run off too far." Cosette chided the kids, mildly. "It´s a strange city after all."

Pascal only snorted. He´d lived in the streets his whole life. Finding his way no matter where was part of his nature. What did she think would happen? That he´d lose orientation after only a corner?

Someone bumped into him and made him stumble. He ran right into another person, and Pascal found himself swirled around for a moment. When he stood steady again, Cosette and Michelle were gone and somehow even the street looked different than before. What? What had just happened? He hadn´t walked that far. This was impossible.

"Cosette? Michelle!" he ran, only a few steps, and stopped, totally at a loss. They´d been right there, only a moment ago.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and he swirled around, too fast, as if attacked. Michelle only frowned at him, like she always did. As if he were crazy.

"What are you doing?" she asked, and for a change he actually felt as ridiculous as she claimed him to be.

"Nothing." he straightened his jacket. Was he ought to admit anything? Surely not. "I just …" he pointed ahead, in a random direction. "I thought I saw something."

"And what?" Michelle glanced past him, following his finger, and while he still thought about what he could possibly claim to have seen, she suddenly paled, her eyes going wide.

Pascal turned around, irritated, but only until he saw what she had seen.

Monsieur Javert was there, in the street right ahead of them. He had his back to them but there was no doubt. It was him. He had a bandage around his head and walked with heavy feet. But he walked. And not in their direction.

Michelle was faster than him, to follow the man, but Pascal was right at her heels.

"Monsieur." they began calling him. "Monsieur Javert."

The injured man swirled around to them, looking very annoyed, as if interrupted by something very important.

"We thought you were dead." Pascal blurred but the former police man only gave him one more glance before searching the street again. A suppressed curse escaped his mouth before he hurried on, without glancing at them one more time. Pascal was totally gobsmacked.

"Monsieur!" Michelle called after him, not less startled.

They watched Javert vanish around a corner, and of course they followed. Something had to be wrong, when he was acting like that. Maybe he needed help. If only monsieur Valjean was here.

Pascal heard a knock and then a grunt. Javert!

Michelle stopped short at the corner and Pascal ran right into her, her elbow keeping him from rounding the corner. And it was good that it did. If they´d run into this backstreet, they would have been spotted. They wouldn´t have been able to watch unseen how Javert got overpowered and dragged into a fiacre, by two men who just had to be criminals. Pascal gasped.

"Go tell Cosette." he whispered and rushed after this fiacre before it could drive off. He heard Michelle hissing his name, angrily, but he couldn´t stop. He had to make sure these men did not take monsieur Javert anywhere where they´d never find him again. He´d do the same thing for every single one of them.

So he hopped onto the fiacre, and clung to it, determined to stay there until it reached its destination.

...

By now Valjean knew that the real reason why Marius had tagged along with him was to make sure he´d give up and ride back after every reasonable lead had turned out to be a dead end. The last farm they´d checked had been unoccupied and hadn´t Marius insisted on riding back to Lyon, Valjean might have waited there until the owners, some people named Bertrand, returned. Be it in a few hours or a few days. Or he would have kept looking in the area, the fields, the woods, the rivers. Anywhere.

He didn´t know how Marius had managed it to convince him to turn around, but it might have something to do with the possibility of Javert already having returned to Lyon on his own – or at least sent a note somehow. How would he know if he roamed about the land?

Valjean hated it, that Marius somehow managed it to sound reasonable with these arguments.

He was exhausted when they finally reached the inn, but in his mind he was still racing. This was wrong. They couldn´t just go back in and sit down while Antoine was missing. They couldn´t …

and that was when Cosette and Michelle ran out to meet them.

"Monsieur!"

"Papa!"

Valjean instantly knew they had news but how good the news were, was only revealed when the two of them practically cried out unisono: "They/We saw Javert."

His heart had no time to leap in relief, when Michelle instantly answered his question of: "Where is he?" by telling the most unbelievable story.

Was that a joke? Taken? By men he´d followed?

The company man came to his mind. So he had been right. The men responsible for the attacks were still out there. And Javert must have found them.

Stubborn old man. Why couldn´t he wait for him? Why did he have to go after them alone? And with an injury on top of that.

But oh God in heaven, he was alive. He´d known it. He´d known Antoine would be all right. And now he might just get himself killed before Valjean could apologize for not catching his fall.

"Where did this happen?" he asked Michelle. "You need to show me this instant. We need to find him."

"Pascal said he´d be back and tell us." the girl argued but Valjean shook his head.

"We can´t risk this. They could notice him and catch him too. We need to act now."

"But if he _does_ get back?" Cosette held against this, mildly but firm. "Someone should be here then."

"All right. You stay. I´ll go out and try what I can to find him. Both of them." He took Michelle´s hand, but halted, one last time, thinking. "Maybe you should go to the station-house, Marius." he decided. "Tell them they need to double the security around the train station. These saboteurs might plan another attack soon."

The young man nodded, for a change not discussing at all, and turned to his wife.

"I´ll wait here for Pascal." she agreed before he needed to say anything. "Go." And to her father and the girl: "Be careful."

...

The cuffs they slapped on him were too tight, and probably not by accident. Where did they get shackles anyway? Only police was supposed to have access to such.

Javert looked about the warehouse. He´d seen lots of boxes when they´d led him in, at gunpoint, giving him no choice but to follow their orders. Now he was chained to a post – ridiculous but unfortunately very solid – and glanced up at his two culprits.

"Now." the man he´d followed from the train station spoke. "Who are you?"

"I´m Javert. Police inspector. And if you two hadn´t already been sneaking around in illegal intent before, you would have dug your own graves just now, by taking a man against his will."

The two men only laughed about his accusations. "I think he seriously just told us we´re criminals." the man who´s name wasn´t Luc said. "Guess next thing he´ll do is arrest us."

"What are we gonna do with him?" his partner wanted to know, and the leader´s grin vanished, behind a very thoughtful frown.

"Let´s keep him here for now." he said. "Until I have decided."

And that was it. No more words were spoken. They simply left and closed the door, locking him away until further notice.

...

It was a backstreet, Michelle showed him, not even that far away from the inn. Dear God, Valjean thought to himself with dread. If he´d stayed put to wait for a word from Javert, maybe he´d met him and none of this would have happened. If only he´d known.

But he hadn´t. And now Javert needed his help. Again.

There were tracks of a fiacre, leading down the street. The fiacre Michelle and Pascal had watched taking Javert away. Thanks God the ground was soft, from the rainy weather lately. Valjean was sure he´d be able to track the way this fiacre had taken. When Javert could follow tracks like this, then so could he. And he remained sure of it, until they reached the main street, made of cobblestones. Valjean had never felt more like a failed student than in this moment.

Oh God, Antoine, how is it that you are the only person in the world I know, who could find out where these men have taken you?


	3. Questions

**Questions**

Marius knew the only reason why they allowed him to question the arrested culprit, was the paragraphs he´d named for them, reciting exactly those laws that entitled him to have a talk with the criminal for monsieur Javert and Fauchelevant – the two men who had been hired by the train company to investigate this crime. Questioning the culprit was part of this task after all.

The local inspector hated him, he knew that. He´d seen the despise in his eyes, when he´d outsmarted him with his knowledge of the law. And Marius had noticed, not for the first time, that it was a strange thing to know, that doing the right thing would make people hate you.

When he entered the cell, the man glared at him, suspiciously. But there was a hint of fear in his eyes, Marius could tell. This man was not as tough as he wanted him to think.

He took one more moment to regard the man, estimating, before he spoke.

"What were your orders in case you should fail to fulfill your mission?" he asked straight on, and the man frowned.

"What?" Not the question he´d expected.

Marius repeated for him: "In case you should fail. If you should get delayed or somehow interrupted … without getting arrested, I mean. How would you contact your boss? You said you were hired, didn´t you?"

The man visibly regretted to have told the police anything at all. But defending himself was obviously more important to him than defending his employers.

"I already told you." he snapped. "We didn´t contact him. He came to us."

"So after the mission would have failed for whatever reason …"

"The order was to sit tight in such a case, until we´d get word from him."

Marius felt the excitement rise. He was closing in on the crucial information. "And _where_ would you sit tight?"

The man shrugged. "At home?"

"So you´re from this town."

"I work for the railway. Of course I´m from this town."

"I´d say you _used_ to work for the railway." Marius corrected, but the man merely snorted.

"The train would have been dumped anyway."

"What?" now that was new to him.

The culprit just about seemed to realize what he´d said and closed off. "Nothing." he claimed but of course Marius would not just let him drop the subject. The man had slipped and he could tell that this little piece was just as crucial as the whereabouts of his boss.

"What do you mean by that?" he demanded to know, and the man, obviously not much of a fighter, gave in after all, spilling what he knew, almost too willingly.

"The train would have been finished soon anyway." he told Marius. "You really think those attacks were the first?"

"Do you hate your employers so much to sabotage them?"

"No. But I figured _if_ it goes down, I can as well take the better deal out of it."

"What better deal? You´d be out of job if the railway´s destroyed."

For a change the man decided it wiser to be quiet, but sometimes silence was more telling than words.

"He offered you another job, didn´t he?" Marius asked, and he only needed to see the man´s gaze to know he was right. "Where?"

"He didn´t say where. Only that we wouldn´t have to be worried. If we hadn´t done it, someone else would have. I figured we deserved it more than any other asshole."

"Did this man show you any proof that he could guarantee you a new job?" Marius demanded to know, but at this the man began sulking.

"No."

"Then how could you even believe him?"

The gaze he received now was daring. "Because I did. Some people can simply be trusted, ya know."

Marius frowned, confused. "This man´s a criminal." he recalled.

"But he has honor. More than some police men I know."

"Honor among criminals." Marius murmured, straightening his back. Something about this notion seemed odd to him. Yet he tried to think, to find the hidden clue in all of this. After all. Who told him this man didn´t actually mean what he said. He knew first hand that the brand criminal was not necessarily a guarantee for the attribute bad.

"Give me your address." he demanded at last.

"Why?"

"I´ll have a look around your place. To see if you forgot to tell me anything."

"You have no right to do this."

But of course Marius was just as fast to tell this man which laws entitled him to search his apartment as he´d been before when he´d talked to the inspector. The criminal before him, looked at him with disgust.

"Let me guess." he said. "You´re a lawyer." When Marius didn´t answer, he just laughed. "Tell you what, lawyer. You can defend me in court if you want."

"Tell _you_ what." Marius leaned forward, and the man skipped back, irritated. "You have nothing to defend yourself with." he told him. "You´re guilty. You´ve been caught red handed and your trial will be a short one. So you better think hard if you want to worsen your case or if it wouldn´t be better to propitiate the judge by helping the police. Your choice."

When Marius left the cell five minutes later, the criminal was quiet, sulking like a little kid.

 **...**

Javert cursed when the rusty old nail he´d pulled out of the post, slipped from the lock and clattered down to the ground. He heard it jump and vanish to a place only God knew. No. Dammit. He tried to peek over his shoulder but it was simply too dark. He´d never find it again. Goddammit.

In his anger he tore on the shackles but of course the only thing he managed with this, was to hurt his own wrists. Outside he heard a carriage drive off, which meant that he´d won a little time. Just how long was unclear. The longer they left him here, the weaker he´d get, especially in his current condition. He needed to find a way out of here, before they came back, to kill and get rid of him. He needed to …

A sound from outside the room made him halt. Someone was coming. Had one of them stayed behind to take care of him after all? He tensed, ready to fight.

"Monsieur Javert?" the voice of a boy called through the door. "Monsieur."

Javert couldn´t believe it. The kid. From the street. What was he doing here? And why? But he had no time to think about it. Opportunities had to be used quickly before they were gone.

"See if there´s a key out there, kid." he ordered. "Or something to break the door with. Hurry. Before they come back."

"Just a minute." the kid answered, and Javert heard how something got ignited in the lock. Not a key. What?

The kid had to be a criminal gamin, grown up stealing and breaking in, he presumed. If he knew how to pick locks. But maybe he only overestimated himself, having heard too many adventure stories …

The door was open and the boy rushed inside. Only one glance and he knew which lock was the next he had to open for Javert. Way too professional for Javert´s liking, even though this development was very much in his favor.

"How do you know how to do that?" he asked while the boy opened his cuffs.

"What do you mean, you taught me." the kid answered, never even looking up. "And I have never used it for anything illegal, I promised! This here doesn´t count, now does it?"

"Who are you?" this time Javert earned a very strange gaze for his question. The kid stopped in his attempts to open the lock, to simply stare at him, aghast.

"Carry on, they could come back." he urged him and the boy flinched, obeying without objection. This time Javert kept his questions to himself until his hands were free. And the kid beat him to it.

"What do you mean, who I am?" he asked. "It´s me Pas …"

But Javert didn´t let him finish. He only grabbed the boy by his shoulder and forced him around, shoving him towards the door.

"We need to get out of here, before they come back." he demanded. "So move."

The boy obeyed, until they left the closet. As soon as they stepped foot into the hall of this warehouse, he swirled around to Javert, fending off his hand, annoyed and skipped back from him. But not to get away. He faced him, like he had a demand to make. His gaze. He looked at him as if Javert was a crazy person. And almost too grown up in the way he seemed to think.

"Boy." Javert warned him. "If you don´t keep moving I´ll carry you. And believe me, you won´t enjoy it …" And this was the moment when his gaze caught sight of the boxes behind the kid. He´d seen them before when they had brought him in here, but only now did he really see. Those were not just some boxes. This was …

He shoved the kid aside, approaching the boxes. This was impossible. The whole hall was stacked with it. Almost reaching the ceiling. Dear God.

"What is it?" the boy asked in a whisper tone, almost as if he were afraid to startle Javert. He still did. This discovery had been almost too much to recall that there was still someone here with him. These men had to be totally mad.

A growling sound made them both swirl around, to the door leading outside. A beast was standing there, head bowed and eyes glowing a whitely yellow in the shady light of this hall. The threatening sound came from deep within his throat.

Javert instinctively shoved the kid further behind his back. But the dog did not wait for them to figure out who would be his first victim. He lunged forward, barking like a hungry monster, and both Javert and the kid scattered. The dog, too fast to catch its own drive, slithered into the boxes, howling angrily, only a moment before it was at its feet again, to follow after them.

The inspector tried to grab the door and throw it shut to lock the beast in, but the lock was old and didn´t hold the door. It banged off and came open again, allowing the dog to storm through it only a second after them.

Javert felt his head swim again, but somehow he managed it to reach the fence without falling. The boy was quicker than him, and for a moment he believed to feel the breath of the dog on his ankle, just before he swung his legs over the fence and landed, not in his most elegant fashion on the other side.

 **...**

It was unbearable. For some reason Cosette just couldn´t sit still. Something had taken over her mind, and in her head the little voice she´d always imagine to be her mother´s was screaming, telling her that she needed to move, that sitting tight like they did, was simply no option. Even her sweet patient father began to get unnerved by her running up and down. He tried not to show, but she could feel it, see it in the way he constantly wiped the sweat off his forehead. God, where was Pascal? Why did he not return? Surely he was all right. Right?

"I can´t do it." she burst out at last, making her father and Michelle jump as if she´d shouted at them. "I need to get out. I´m suffocating in here. I´m going to the station-house. See how Marius is doing. All right? Just … I just need to walk."

"We noticed." Michelle murmured, trying to say it as quiet as possible, and once again Cosette felt awful.

This was exactly why she needed to get out of here. It was enough that one of them got antsy. They were all worried enough about Pascal … and Javert of course. No need for her to make it even worse for the two of them.

"We go together." her father rose and Michelle stared at him as if she wanted to cry out: Gosh, no! He didn´t notice. But Cosette did.

"It´s all right." she raised her hands. "Someone still has to wait here for Pascal. I´ll be fine. I really just need to get some fresh air."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Don´t worry. I´ll only go to the police, not … some dangerous place."

And in this moment she really didn´t want to think about what other place she could have named if she had allowed her mouth to speak. Her father was already unnerved enough as it was, without her spilling any crazy thoughts. So she took her leave as quickly as possible, not giving him any more time to object or think twice. Because she knew that he would.

 **...**

"Sir, I need to get to this man´s place." Marius approached the desk sergeant. "He gave me his address and …"

"Slow down, son." inspector Taillon talked over him. "This is not your jurisdiction. I was patient with you until now. But this is going too far."

"All right. Then _you_ search his place." Marius rolled his eyes. He didn´t care who´d do it, as long as it got done.

"And why would we do that?" Taillon asked. "Because you say so?"

"There might be a clue somewhere."

"To what?"

"To who´s behind all this?" Marius offered the most obvious explanation. Was this man really that blind or did he simply pretend to be?

"We have the men behind this." Taillon insisted. "And soon we´ll have their partners as well."

"Not if they´re faster than you." Marius corrected him, but instead of taking his advise, Taillon reacted hostile, walking in on him, threateningly.

"You want to insult us?"

"No." Marius did his best to stand his ground without skipping back. "Please, monsieur. All I´m trying to say is … if these men attack again it might be too late."

Taillon simply nodded, as if he understood only too well. "You know what your problem is?" he asked. "You and your friends, those former … Paris police men? You think us provincial. Right? Poor Not-Paris-Police, don´t know how to handle their own affairs. The only reason why I allowed these two old men to meddle in this case, was because the train company hired them. It was their business at risk so it was their right to try desperate and stupid measures. But now the criminals are arrested and we don´t need you guys anymore."

Marius had listened to this in silence. It was more than clear that objections were pointless. So he simply settled with: "I understand."

"I don´t like the tone you´re using, son." Taillon told him.

"I´m sorry to hear that."

For a moment he had to endure the glare of this man. Until Taillon snorted, disparagingly.

"Hiring someone from the Surete." he laughed. "Former criminals."

"Monsieur Javert was with the police as you stated yourself."

"Yeah? And why isn´t he anymore?"

"He retired. After the revolt three years ago."

"I see." Taillon thought for a moment, before he shrugged. "Well, one could take that kind of … ambivalent."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I guess we could just assume that he retired after this battle because of some sort of … dunno. Trauma?" The sad face he showed Marius was more than just mocking. It was downright insulting. "Having seen such cruelty and so on." the inspector straightened. "Or … he retired after he saw those traitors getting killed. Traitors he might have supported."

"He didn´t. He tried to spy on us to overpower the barricades. He did his best to defeat the revolt. He´s never been _for_ it."

Marius became aware of the suspicious frown between the inspector´s brows.

"Us?" Taillon asked.

"Them." Marius corrected, quickly. "Inspector Javert infiltrated the revolutionaries, posing as one of them, to stop them from the inside. He got caught and almost killed by them. He …"

"Wait wait wait." Taillon raised a hand, as if nothing of this was important. "You said … us." he insisted, and slowly Marius realized just how big his mistake had been.

"Those traitors were mostly students I heard." Taillon regarded him, with a penetrating stare. "You were a student at the time, weren´t you?"

Marius didn´t give an answer to that. But obviously Taillon was a man who didn´t need words to understand certain truths. Especially when it fitted his means.

"Well." he smiled at Marius. "If that isn´t interesting."

 **...**

Javert had no idea how long he´d been lying there, half conscious after this drop from the fence had shaken his already battered head like a tambourine. But when he came back around, his headache was throbbing worse than ever.

"Monsieur Javert!" the voice of the boy was annoyingly loud. "Monsieur."

Javert opened his eyes to the fence only a few inches away, and just in this moment the dog jumped into his view snarling dangerously. He skipped back, only until he realized the dog was kept at bay by the fence. It scratched its paws against the wood, pushed its snout between the laths but in the end it had to give up, yet again. Javert relaxed.

"Are you all right, Javert?" the boy asked, and the inspector looked up at him.

"I´ll live." he answered, shortly, and struggled back to his feet.

The kid gave him a whole minute to recover before he asked, without transition: "What was in those boxes? You looked so pale when you saw them."

Javert regarded this way too curious kid for a moment. He couldn´t have been unconscious for too long when the boxes were the first thing on his mind.

"Gunpowder." he then answered. "And you still haven´t told me how you know me."

Again there was this frown. "How I know you?"

"Why did you follow me here?"

"Be … Because they took you. I … I don´t understand you, sir. Don´t you remember? I … I know I was wrong … it was my fault that you fell out of the train but … Please, I didn´t mean it. I was only trying to help."

Javert´s headache only got worse from all that nonsense. None of this seemed to have anything to do with what he´d asked from the kid. Except …

"You were there when I had my accident?" he caught up to this one crucial information. "So you know what happened."

The boy seemed very sad all the sudden. "I … I didn´t mean … If I would have known …"

"Boy!" Javert stopped the senseless ranting. "Who … did this to me?"

Again there was the worry in the kid´s eyes. "The saboteurs. Monsieur Valjean told me about them after they returned. We didn´t know where you were, so we …"

Javert grabbed the kid, his hand biting into his shoulder like a claw. "Did you say Valjean?" he demanded an answer and the boy nodded.

"Yes. He was worried about you. After …"

"He has every reason to be." the inspector growled, his mind completely clear now.

So this was the answer. This was why he was here, so far away from Paris. Of course. What other business could have brought him so far away from his own jurisdiction? Only this one. The one that got away. But not this time.

"Kid." he demanded attention. "Can you show me where I find this man?"

Another irritated frown appeared between the boy´s brows. "Sure, I can." he said, uncertain. "I told them to wait at the inn, for my return. We can go there together now."

"Good." Javert felt his energy return, quickly. "Lead the way."

* * *

 **Happy New Year, everyone ...**


	4. Reunion

**Reunion**

When Cosette reached the station-house, she already felt that something was strange. The inspector was standing in the entrance hall, with the man at the desk and she could tell, that he recognized her instantly. Despite the fact that they hadn´t spoken at all on the day of their arrival. Despite the fact that she´d believed to have completely slipped his attention, when her father had demanded men and horses, to search for Javert.

But he did recognize her. And Cosette did not like the smile he gave her.

"Madame." he touched the rim of his hat. "What a nice surprise."

"I´m here to see my husband." Cosette replied, cool and collected, hiding her irritation. "He came here to deliver news about the saboteurs. I believe he …"

"Oh, he´s here." inspector Taillon talked over her. "In fact … he´s our guest now."

Cosette frowned, against this rising fear. "What is the meaning of this?"

The inspector, yet again, smiled at her. Wider even.

"We arrested him." he said, brutally sweet, and Cosette´s fear started to scream in her head.

"What? What for?"

Taillon exchanged a glance with his desk sergeant, as if this was the most ridiculous question he´d ever heard.

"Mademoiselle." he addressed her mildly. "Are you aware of the fact that your husband was part of a revolt three years prior? In Paris?"

"He was cleared of all the charges." Cosette burst out, scandalized that this was brought up, even now after everything that had happened. Taillon only raised a brow, rather satisfied.

"So it _is_ true." he found, and there was something impossibly confident in his eyes.

Cosette realized with dread that her try to defend Marius had just confirmed what Taillon had only guessed so far. Now he had proof. And this was her doing.

"As I just said." she composed herself, refusing to panic the way Taillon wanted her to. "He was cleared. After he helped to uncover a conspiracy, that caused this exact same revolt, only to gain profit. Those men were no students. They were politicians, bankers, even police men."

After this exposition Taillon regarded her in silence for almost a minute. It was as if he watched a rare specimen, believed to be extinct, before he´d shoot it and have it taxidermied.

"Your family seems to be involved in such matters quite a lot." he mentioned at last, and Cosette had trouble to keep her voice down.

"My husband is a lawyer. And one of us used to be an inspector. Of course we are involved in such matters. My father and he are working to fight crimes for two years now. Not because they need the money. But because it´s the right thing to do."

"We do the same thing, mademoiselle." Taillon stated, unimpressed. "In case you haven´t noticed."

"Then why are you holding my husband?"

"Because he´s a traitor to this country. He became one when he joined the battle in Paris. And as far as it concerns your father and his … friend. They work for a former criminal. In my eyes they´re just as trustworthy as the men we arrested on that train."

Cosette wanted to close her eyes, to calm this brewing anger inside her. But something just kept her gaze locked with that of the inspector. Just the fact that he compared her father – and all of them for that matter – with no good criminals, made her want to yell out. But she didn´t. Instead she took a step closer to him, unconsciously imitating what she´d seen Javert do sometimes when he tried to intimidate her father. Her tone though was that of Valjean, on those rare occasions when she´d been around to witness him being angry and determined to show it.

"If you´re looking for someone guilty to brighten up your record, monsieur, look for it somewhere else, not at my family. You wouldn´t want any of us as an enemy."

Taillon raised his brows, surprised, and he was almost laughing. "Are you trying to threaten me?" he asked and _his_ threat was more obvious than hers.

Cosette didn´t answer. She only glowered up at him. "Release my husband." she demanded. "You have nothing on him. Or anyone of my family."

Taillon had no problem holding her glare. He was smirking but eventually he turned to his man behind the desk and ordered: "Release the guy."

He said it as if all of this had been some silly joke that could finally be dropped now that they all had had their good laugh, and it made Cosette fume all the more.

"Take it as a warning." he told her. "This is our precinct. We´re handling our business on our own."

Cosette couldn´t stop glaring, in hate. "Understood." she pressed out. A sound that seemed to satisfy this man even more.

"Cosette." Marius´ cry made her swirl around. The sight of him being led in in cuffs made the anger fly away and the fear return. This creeping fear that maybe one day, her father´s past might catch up with all of them after all.

"Take your husband." Taillon instructed as the cuffs got taken off. "Get him home and pamper him. And stay out of our business."

He gave Marius the briefest of glances, totally uneffected by the hateful glare he received by him just as well. The only reaction it seemed to cause for the inspector, was an amused smile.

"Have a nice day."

And with that they were released … as in thrown out.

...

Valjean´s eyes were in the distance. Far away, not even seeing the street before the house, not even the sky he gazed at. Had he payed attention, he might have seen the two figures arrive and enter the inn, but he didn´t. His worry was still too real for him, too heavy on his mind.

What if Pascal got hurt in his try to help Antoine? Back then, when he´d followed some criminals who´d taken a certain woman, he´d been caught too. What if these men were not as patient? What if they were ruthless and cold blooded killers? They attacked trains filled with people after all. What if they killed Pascal and Javert? Would they find their bodies in the ditch? His blood ran cold dreading this message. He didn´t want to hear this message. He wanted to hear that they were fine. That they´d return home safely.

But what if? What if this wouldn´t happen? He´d lived in this cruel world for too long to know that prayers were not always answered. This part of him was now demanding to get ready for the inevitable message. That Antoine was gone and would never return. That Pascal had died trying to save him, while he, Valjean, had been helpless and unable to do anything.

Oh, God, please.

The knock on the door made his heart beat into his throat, his head swim. Please. Let that be Cosette and Marius, returning from the station-house. Or simply the inn-keeper offering something or maybe … someone else. Just not a police officer, bringing them _that_ message.

When he opened the door and looked at the familiar face of Antoine, it was like a shock. For a moment he wasn´t able to do anything but stare. But he wasn´t dreaming, he was awake, and it needed only a second for his mind to catch up with this fact. When it did a relieved smile spread on his face, just as their eyes met. No one else in this world could ever look so grim and grumpy. Only one.

Antoine grabbed him, and before Valjean had a chance to open his arms, he found himself pinned against a wall, fists under his throat and a very angry looking friend in his face.

"Valjean." he hissed. "I knew it. I told you I´d find you. This time you won´t get away."

And in his surprise, Valjean couldn´t do anything but laugh, heartily in his happiness to see his friend alive, to have him threaten him with punches for his stupidity yet again. Like he always did. How could he have expected anything else for their reunion? No sappy embrace, or maybe even tears of relief. Not him. Not Antoine. He´d show his relieve by punching the living crap out of him for being the reason this ever happened.

"I am sorry." he chuckled, taking Javert´s arms. "I am so … so sorry." he couldn´t stop the tears of joy from entering his own eyes. "But you know technically it wasn´t my fault this time." he gazed at the boy, standing with a startled Michelle. "It was him."

"Hey!" Pascal protested and even on his face Valjean could see the ghost of a smile.

Even this grumpy face of his friend could not diminish Valjean´s relief. It only increased it. God, he had him back.

"I don´t know what kind of game you´re playing, Valjean." Javert hissed. "But it ends now."

He pressed his arm against Valjean´s throat, at last startling him enough to wipe the smile off his face.

"Monsieur, what are you doing?" he heard Pascal cry out but the pressure would not decrease.

"Boy." Javert spoke. "Take your girlfriend and get out."

"What?"

"I´m not his girlfriend!"

"I said out!" Javert roared and the kids flinched, in honest shock, for the first time since they knew him. They glanced at Valjean, for help, and despite his own unfortunate position, he managed to nod at them, reassuringly. It´s all right, kids, his gaze said. Trust me, I´ll handle this. And knowing them both for long enough, they reluctantly obeyed and left the room, firmly closing the door behind them.

"All right." Valjean addressed Javert, serious this time. Because even for him it was obvious that the fun was over. "Would you at least explain to me what all this means?" he had trouble breathing. "If that´s supposed to be a joke it´s not funny."

"Do I look as if I´m joking, Valjean?"

"Then what´s the matter, Antoine?"

The reaction he saw in his friend´s eyes, was pure shock. The arm on his throat pressed stronger yet again, almost cutting off his air. "How do you know that name?" Javert demanded to know and for a moment Valjean was lost.

"How do I know this name?" he repeated. "Antoine, did you lose your mind?" But in this moment, as if his own question was determined to answer itself, his gaze got drawn to the bandages around Javert´s head. And he finally understood.

"Oh God."

"Doesn´t matter where you heard the name." Javert at last decided. "Maybe you saw it in my file in Montreuil. It won´t make a difference. Cause you won´t fool me. Your little friend slipped and so did you. You pushed me out of a train and _that_ … is attempted murder on a police inspector. This will not only earn you the bagne but the rope as well."

"Antoine."

"It´s inspector Javert for you, 24601. And you´re under arrest."

"Antoine."

But Antoine didn´t listen. He simple dragged him towards the door like he would have done it with a real criminal.

"You´re coming with me."

"Antoine!" Valjean finally pushed him back, to stop him, and Javert instantly fought.

Valjean had never dreamed in his worst nightmares that there would be a day anymore, when he´d fight this man for real. And that was the only reason why he lost, and ended up on the wall again, pushed with even more force than before.

"You are not with the police anymore." he cried. "And we are friends. For over two years. We work together. We _live_ together. We are a family, Antoine. Please. You´ve got to remember."

"I remember your capacity to fake and lie. But I must say your fantasy has reached a state of insanity. If you try to fool me with lies, at least come up with something more realistic."

"Antoine, you´ve got to believe me. We were working a case, against saboteurs on the new railway. We found them and they fought. You fell out, because you protected Pascal. Try to remember. Marius and I went looking for you. But the night came and we had to ride back. I was worried sick about you."

"Save your breath, Valjean. Your lies won´t sway me. You only make yourself ridiculous." He began laughing. "What makes you think I would believe such a tale?"

"Because it´s true." Valjean insisted, frustrated and angry. "It is nothing but the truth. Please, don´t do this. Give me a chance to help you remember."

"I won´t give you anything, Valjean. You´ll come with me, to the police station. And then you´ll go back to prison where you belong."

"You gave up your uniform, because you did not want to arrest me anymore. Remember. I saved your life. At the barricades. You wanted to kill yourself …"

"I said it´s enough!" he hauled him away from the wall, just as a shout from outside made them halt. Michelle! And then the door got busted.

Valjean had only a moment to gape at the men who suddenly stood in the room, before one of them raised a pistol and aimed at them. He reacted on instinct when he threw himself at Javert, dragging him to the ground, so the bullet went over their heads. But there was a second man, and a second gun.

"Well, if that isn´t interesting." he commented, looking down on them, and just as he got ready to shoot, Pascal rushed into the room, attacking. The shot misfired as well, into the wall, and Valjean didn´t wait any longer.

Javert was even faster than him. He grabbed the man´s pistol, wringing it out of his hand, and Valjean found himself struggling against the second man. He heard Javert cry out in pain, and saw him go down, holding his side – an injury that had already been there before this struggle. These men knew.

His moment of inattention served him not much better and the blow he received to the head, sent him to the ground.

"Help!" he heard Michelle´s voice, from outside, as she ran down the hall and outside, yelling all the way. "Help! Police! Help!"

Good girl.

"Dammit!" one of the men hissed, and before Valjean even knew what had happened they were gone. Pascal was with him, trying to help him up, only to abandon him a second later in favor of helping Javert. The kid always tried to do too many things at once.

Javert was on his feet faster than expected, and grabbed Valjean. But not to help him. "Who are these men?" he demanded to know. "Business partners of you?"

"They must be the men behind the sabotage." Valjean gasped, annoyed by now. "Remember the case, Antoine."

Through the open window they heard Michelle´s scream, yet again. Only this time she didn´t scream for someone to come and help chase away these criminals. This time she screamed in fear.

Pascal was at the window first.

"They´re taking her!" he cried and ran out before Valjean had the time to realized what he´d just heard. But then his mind had caught up and he followed after. The surprise of this turn of events was probably the only reason why Javert´s grip had been lose enough for him to slip away. But as he reached the street, he was again right at his heels.

They saw the fiacre drive off, Michelle´s voice sounding out from within. And Valjean did not lose any more time. He grabbed a horse, bound to the post before the inn, and spurred it into motion. These men would not get away this time. Not with the girl. Not while he was here to do something about it.

And when he heard Javert´s roar as he spurred another horse to race after him, he knew it was only partly because of Michelle. He was the police inspector from many years ago, and he, Valjean, was once again his fugitive he had to hunt.

If he wanted it or not. The race was on again.

...

When they came back to the inn, they already heard the buzzing voices. Something was wrong. Cosette had developed a feeling for these things, much faster than she liked it. And then Pascal cried out for them, and she just knew.

"What happened?" she asked, almost dreading the answer.

She expected to hear of injuries or even death, but when she heard what really happened, she had to learn that there was something even worse than that. Reality never failed to bring her down, and her worst expectations never matched what life could bring upon her.

Michelle. Oh please God no.

"We´ll find her." Marius promised. "I´ll find us some horses. You wait here."

And with that he was gone, rushing down the street, and Cosette was left behind, clutching a flustered Pascal, and praying … just praying.

...

He should have known that he could never outrun Javert for long. Not this man. Not when he was as determined as this. It had been a long time since he´d seen him like this, such a long time since he´d been his enemy. And still, all the sudden, the man he´d called his friend, the only person in the world beside Cosette he´d trust with everything, was the bane of his existence once more. As if some cruel merciless power had decided to give them a chance to build a safe haven for themselves, only to rip it all from them again, as soon as they thought to actually be safe.

Why? Why was fate so cruel to them?

He only heard the horse, closing in from his left, the trees rushing by, as he tried to skip. This was still not his best part in riding a horse. Cross-country in the close confinement of the woods. This was Javert´s element, not his. And if he didn´t know that Javert had forgotten about the endless hours of giving lessons to him in this sport, he´d now complain an unfair tactic from someone who knew exactly that this wasn´t his best department.

Unfortunately this was not a game. And when Javert finally grabbed the reins of his horse, to stop him, he wasn´t going to celebrate with a triumphant laugh. He´d drag him out of the saddle if he got the chance and force him to his knees, to keep him from running. Valjean knew he would. So in order to spare himself this humiliation, he jumped out of the saddle himself, before Javert had a chance to grab him.

The former inspector was on the ground only a second later, taking a stance, ready to fight. It was so futile and painful to watch. After everything they´d been through. Together!

"I´m not your enemy, Javert!" he cried. "And we don´t have time for this. They´re getting away!"

"You really want to convince me that catching these criminals is the only thing on your mind?"

"They. Have. Michelle!" Valjean began to lose it. God, how easy it was to fall back into the old pattern, facing such a stubborn and unyielding idiot. "You might not remember me, but you must remember your oath. Inspector? There´s a girl in need of our help. We must find her, before they can do whatever disgusting things to her."

The argument was well placed. He saw the change in Javert´s eyes, at the thought of this girl possibly getting raped by her kidnappers. He´d never asked Javert why it was such a weak spot for him, but right now he couldn´t care less. He knew he wouldn´t ignore this, only to catch _him_. Everything else he might ignore, but not this.

"Please, Javert." he begged. "She´s innocent. Please."

The inspector, who had forgotten that he wasn´t an inspector anymore, narrowed his eyes. "It is always some poor girl that only you can save, isn´t it, Valjean?"

"This time I can only do it with your help. Javert. You can read tracks, far better than I can. I´d never find the trace again, but you can. Help me save her. And after that, if you still want this, I will come with you. I swear."

"You swore to me once already, and still you ran. I´m supposed to believe you now?"

"I have no reason to run from you anymore."

"Ah yeah, right." Javert regarded him with resentment. "Because we´re friends now."

The hostility sent a jolt of pain through him, but Valjean knew he had no time to care about it now. Not now.

"Please, help me." he begged instead. "Help me save her. Before they harm her."

There was something in Javert´s eyes. Something he´d always known was there, even though the other man tried to deny and hide it whenever possible. But right now this one thing was the only reason why he knew he´d convinced him.

Javert straightened his back. "Get back on your horse." he instructed him, and Valjean obeyed, instantly. "You´ll stay close." were the orders. "Never leave my eyes."

"Never. I promise."

He didn´t know if he believed him, but for now Javert did not object. "We will save her." he informed him. "But that´s the end of it."

...

Taillon was not happy to be called to something as ridiculous as a sprawl, while he had more important things to deal with. But as it turned out the incident at this little inn was not as small as he´d expected.

Witnesses talked about an attack. A door and some furniture of the inn had been broken, and a girl had screamed, possibly taken by force. Two men who were seen fighting with some other men, actually fitted the description of the two meddlers from Paris.

Well, if that wasn´t interesting. Maybe this sprawl was worth investigating a little further after all.


	5. Heat of Action

**I need to apologize to everyone who reads this. I was very absent lately. I know. I´ll try to post the rest of this story in due time.**

* * *

 **Heat of Action**

Javert had no idea what Valjean was up to. Why he was doing the things he did. It was still odd to him, to know how much time had passed since he´d learned that the old con was in Paris, only a day before he´d been ordered to take care of an expected revolution. A revolution that was now three years in the past.

What had happened? He´d lost three years. And now he was riding beside a criminal he´d hunted for much longer than that. Not on his way to a station-house. Not with Valjean in cuffs. But with an agreement that could only be called insane.

Maybe Valjean really wanted to save that girl. Maybe it was only a trick to get him, Javert, to drop his guard. He must know that he had no other choice but to follow these kidnappers to save her. Could it be that this kidnapping only came just at the right moment for this convict, to divert Javert´s attention so he could slip away?

It wouldn´t happen. He wouldn´t allow it. What Valjean claimed was just impossible. An insane idea of a mad mind. Friends with a criminal. Him? Quitting the police? For a criminal? It was pure madness.

He trained his eyes to the ground, concentrating on the tracks. There was only one way they could have taken. This path had not split for over an hour. And by now it was obvious that they were heading into the hills. God, where were they taking her?

They reached an elevation and the view revealed their real destination.

"The tracks." Valjean exclaimed, staring at the hillside rising after this low depression before them. Two tracks ran up that hill and just as they looked a train loaded with coal was hoisted upwards, while a long row of horses got led to the other side, alongside, much faster than the train.

"What the hell is that?" Javert heard himself ask, unable to take his eyes off this strange scene.

"I … I believe they drag the train over the hills with hoists." Valjean answered, just as mesmerized as he was. "The horses can´t carry the weight so they …" he cleared his throat meeting Javert´s gaze, embarrassed. He must have known the question was merely rhetorical. But his unease lasted only one more second, before realization came over him.

"They must plan another attack on the train." he cried. "That´s why they´re here. They …" he stared at the hoists again, and Javert could almost read it on his forehead.

"And they took the girl along for the fun?" he asked, startling the old con. "You´re not making much sense, Valjean."

"I don´t know what they´re up to. But they didn´t come here for nothing."

"I agree." Javert replied but obviously Valjean did not understand the irony in his tone.

"You follow the tracks." he decided, as if he was the one giving the orders. "Find Michelle. I´ll warn the workers." And with that he would have turned his horse around, to ride off and away, had Javert not blocked his way.

"I told you, 24601. You won´t leave my sight." When the old con only stared, uncomprehending, he dared him: "What is more important, Valjean? This girl´s safety or a phantom train sabotage that comes very handy just now, when you actually have to face me and your just punishment?"

The blank gaze turned dark, instantly. "It´s not a phantom. And I´m not lying to get away. I want to do the right thing."

"Then come with me and save this poor girl."

"Fine!" Valjean spurred his horse, down the other direction, leaving Javert to follow him.

...

"I see them." the criminal holding Michelle said.

"Good. You know what to do."

The other man nodded, and grabbed Michelle, taking her from the first man. He began shaking her. But the girl only shook her head, rooting her feet fast into the ground. It was more than clear that she would refuse to walk another step or scream, no matter how much they tried to scare her.

As much as he hated it, but she really wouldn´t leave him any other choice.

...

The scream echoed over the whole place, and Javert´s heart skipped a beat at the sound.

"Michelle!" Valjean cried beside him, just as he spotted the two men, higher up the hill, between the trees. One of them was twisting the girl´s arm. A moment later the convict was gone from his side, trying to spur the horse up this very steep slope.

"Stop!" Javert roared, scared by the sight. The horse would fall, and hurt itself AND Valjean in the process. Maybe even fatally. Thanks God the animal was agile and much smarter than Valjean. It managed to catch itself, after sliding and losing its balance. And after this failed attempt of obedience it simply stayed where it was, refusing to obey Valjean´s demands, too scared to try again.

Valjean jumped out of the saddle, impatiently, and hurried to climb the slope. And Javert, in his lack of any other option, did the same.

Halfway up this hillside, he saw one of the two men leave, out of sight, while the second man dragged the girl away. Under different circumstances Javert would have ordered to split up, so each of them could follow one man. But the circumstances were not normal, and he was working with a convict he could not trust. He would be gone, possibly with the girl, before Javert would have caught up to the second criminal. So he abandoned this man, in favor of the other. He´d serve better if he helped to save the girl, he told himself. And by doing so he could make sure, Valjean would not bolt.

"Don´t!" he heard the girl cry out. "This is a hmmmpf."

The man had gagged her, his huge hand over the her mouth. And Javert felt a jolt of anger. Yes, this man was much more worth his attention right now. Valjean seemed to agree.

"Let her go. I swear you´ll regret it if you don´t."

"You approach from beneath." Javert instructed without thinking and sped up to climb higher. And without even seeing it, somehow he knew Valjean nodded, no hesitation at all.

"Let go of the girl and surrender now!" Javert ordered the criminal, without decreasing his climbing speed. "If you do, your punishment will be smaller. Think about it! You won´t get away!"

He knew the man would probably not listen. They never did. These calls were mere tries to distract the man. Sometimes it worked. Making them listen, making them focus on him, the source of those shouts, while forgetting about the second man. With some luck, Valjean would be able to get to the man in a moment of inattention.

He saw the man, still holding the girl in his chokehold. And he was backing off, away from him. Good. He had his attention.

Javert followed. He was now on the same level as the criminal. His feet still slipped once in a while, but mostly he could walk, using trees and bushes as hold. And at last the trees gave way to the hillside, prepared by the train company, to fit the tracks into the landscape. The rails went there, and only a bit higher from them, the hoists were squeaking and screaming with a deafening noise, dragging up yet another train, loaded with tons and tons of black coals from the nearby mines.

Javert sped up. His feet had much better grip on this earthy ground. But the kidnapper had the same advantage. Javert spurted uphill, towards the relentless hoist, to cut off the man´s escape, and yet again diverted his attention towards him, off of Valjean. It worked. Until the man realized that someone was coming up the hill from behind him.

"Give up!" Javert demanded again. "Surrender yourself."

The man glanced behind, at the approaching Valjean, clearly estimating his chances, before his gaze changed. And Javert did not like this change.

"Victor!" he cried, at a point behind Javert, and the inspector guessed he now knew where the second man had disappeared to.

He swirled around, expecting an attack, but instead his eyes needed a moment to actually spot the man. He was at the hoist. No. He was coming FROM the hoist. What had he done there? Hiding? It didn´t make sense.

If Javert had had more time to actually think this through, he might have understood it faster. But as it was he had merely seconds to register all these things at once, before the scream of the girl disturbed his mind yet again.

"No!" Valjean roared and when Javert swirled back to them, he saw the girl, just hitting the ground – right in the middle of the tracks – and Valjean jump after her, while the criminal ran away.

Javert considered following the man, but only until Valjean called his name, desperation and fear in his voice. The tone only irritated him for a second. When he saw the reason, his considering whether to run after the escaping criminal was finished. A girl, who´s foot was stuck between the iron of some tracks while the heavy train was slowly but surely closing in, left no room for consideration.

Valjean was trying to pull her out, and when that proved impossible, he frantically began untying her boot. Riding boots. Way too high up her leg to be opened in time. The train was almost there. The two of them would be crushed, slowly but without mercy.

"Stop this hoist!" Javert roared, hopelessly over the tracks, hoping in vain that someone would hear them on the other side. Someone who operated the hoists. Only a few more meters and the train would be at them. He ran, towards the hoist. There had to be a lever somewhere. Some sort of emergency stop mechanism.

Four meters. Valjean was still not done untying her boot. The girl pulled and pulled, frantically, but her foot was stuck.

Javert couldn´t see a lever. Only the huge wheels and the enormous wires pulling the train up this hill.

Three meters.

If only he had something to put between the wheels. It would stop the machinery, right? But he had nothing.

Two meters.

And that was the moment when he saw it. Just for a second, a tiny glimmer, wandering along a thin ropelike thing, before it vanished out of his sight.

"JAVERT!"

The train was there. But so was the fuse. Javert knew what would happen, a heartbeat before it did. And for a moment time itself seemed to have slowed down for him. Only for him. He could see it all. The huge hoist, moaning and huffing under the weight it pulled up the hill, the movements slowed down in a strange way, as if the whole world had gotten sluggish. The screeching of the train´s wheels on the iron tracks, way too close to Valjean and the girl at this point. Valjean´s cry and her´s too, both of them sounding as if they were miles away, not the mere twenty meters that separated them from Javert.

The figure of the culprit he´d seen coming from the hoist mere minutes before, watching him from a safe distance, mesmerized, as if he too couldn´t take his eyes off that scene. A scene that he had created.

Javert had no idea how he managed it to swirl around before the explosion happened. But somehow he felt his feet starting to move, running towards Valjean and the girl. He could see the old con´s gray head, bowing over the girl – again way too slow – as if he could protect her from getting crushed by this train. He didn´t know that the real danger was not behind them.

It was behind Javert.

And just as the inspector opened his mouth to cry out for them, he heard the roaring sound of flames shooting up behind him. He felt the heat, in his back. Something hit him square in the shoulder, something big and hot and it knocked him down.

He flew, the world swirling around him and landed in the dirt by the trees, his mind already numb. What he saw when he opened his eyes was a dream. Unreal. Horrible. He saw the train, huge, like a monster, towering over Valjean and the girl. It stopped, inches away from Valjean´s ankles, while burning fragments flew all around them, from the exploding hoist.

The wires that had pulled the train uphill snapped off like cords, flipping away. Javert saw one of them miss Valjean´s back only about mere inches, as he threw himself over the girl again, hoping against any hope. Somewhere in the distance he could hear shouts and screams. Men. But too distant. Way too distant. Just as the world, it all seemed to retrieve, away from him. Shapes, sounds, even the light. Until everything was dark.

...

Valjean only knew that hell had broken lose around them, but he was too scared for Michelle to dare and look up. He held her safe – he hoped – beneath him. If anything should strike down on them, it should hit him, not her. At one point he´d felt the draft of something coming close but he didn´t feel any impact. Close call.

And then the noise that had felt like an impact all on its own, was fading. He didn´t have to look to know that the train was rolling back down the slope, derailing, thundering downhill and crashing where it had started its way up. It was an awful sound, but it was distant. Like a storm just behind the horizon. A little further ahead he heard the last hopeless movements of the destroyed hoist, much louder, until it broke down for good, and was just dead. After that the only sounds left was the fire.

He looked up. The shady light of the evening was lightened by dark burning spots, confusing his eyes.

"Hurry." he urged Michelle´s foot out of the boot, at last. They needed to get off this track, away from this hoist, in case it should explode again.

"Javert!"

He didn´t get an answer.

Michelle got up, her boot in hand, and jumped out of the rails, before she quickly slipped it back on. And that was the moment, when Valjean saw him.

He lay at the treeline, in the shadow. He´d almost overlooked him.

"Antoine!"

His foot got stuck on the rail, and he tripped. He barely noticed. There was blood, too much blood, on Javert´s back. The blood and shredded clothes made it impossible to see the whole damage, but Valjean knew that it was too late. A wound like that would kill a man, if he didn´t get medical attention instantly. And they were miles away from the city. If Antoine wasn´t dead already he´d die within minutes.

Valjean tore his own coat apart, pressed the cloth to Javert´s back and frantically wrapped the rest around him, to somehow at least resemble a bandage.

"Michelle!" he shouted, but the girl was already standing right behind him. Pale and silent. Who knew for how long.

"Move." he ordered her. "Search the horses. We left them at the bottom. Hurry. We need to bring him to a doctor. Go!"

And she ran, without objection, downhill. He saw her dodge, and vanished between the trees. Because the bottom of the hill was blocked with the burning wrack of the train. Valjean didn´t dare to hope that any of the workers down there were able to help them anymore. Oh dear God why? Why did they do that?

"Antoine!" he turned the lifeless man around. "Antoine, can you hear me?"

But Antoine didn´t respond. His eyes were closed, one cheek bruised and bloody. But Valjean believed to feel that life was still in him. That his friend was still in this shell that God had given him on earth. But for how long? How much time did they have?

He glanced down the hill again, considering to cry out for help. Some workers must have survived this. Maybe they could help. Maybe.

But it was hopeless. Even if someone was down there, they wouldn´t even hear him. Michelle would call them, he knew she would. She was bright. She knew looking for the horses would be in vain. The animals would have fled. And with them even the last hope to bring Antoine to a doctor was gone as well.

The panic came in one big rush, threatening to crush him under its weight. He could feel it, coming over him like a wave. Merciless. And fast.

"He won´t make it." someone spoke up, disrupting the silence, and Valjean jumped, and swirled around, ready to fight this new threat. "His body is in shock already." the man with the gun told him. "And if he doesn´t bleed to death, he´ll die from blood poisoning, considering what probably hit him. He´ll die in any case, long before you reach the city. Slowly. And painfully."

Valjean panted, glaring at this man. And as he looked, the criminal pointed his gun at Antoine.

"I could keep him from that fate." he said, but Valjean had already moved, blocking his line of fire. This man would not shoot Antoine like a rabid dog. Not while he was here.

The man reacted surprised at the action, and raised a brow, chuckling. "So you´re willing to die for your friend." he commented. "That makes my offer much easier."

"What do you want?" Valjean snapped, trying to estimate if he could attack and win a struggle. But in this moment he spotted the second man, a few feet behind the first. Also armed. No, there was no chance. Not with Antoine bleeding to death behind him.

"I want you." the man answered his question. "You´ll come with me. Without struggle …"

"I´m not leaving him." Valjean interrupted and the man before him pretended he hadn´t spoken.

"I offer your friend medical attention in return." he spoke, slowly, as if afraid Valjean wouldn´t understand. And he was right. What?

"I can save his life." he explained. "I can´t promise he´ll make it but … I´ll try what I can. But you have to cooperate."

Valjean´s mind was racing. Was that a trick? Why would he do that? Antoine! Michelle was still not back. And even if she´d be. These men had guns.

"How much time you think your friend has?" the man urged him for an answer. "Do we have a deal or not?"

Valjean glared at this man, but his hate was completely lost on this calm facade. And there was absolutely no time at all, to demand an explanation to why he made this offer in the first place. After he´d almost killed them. No time at all.

"Deal." he forced the word out. And this man with the gun nodded. Once.

...

When they´d heard the sounds in the distance, Cosette had known something was wrong. Because that sound was no thunder.

Beside her Marius had jerked the reigns, stopping the cart abruptly.

"Did you hear that?" he asked, searching the land ahead of them. But there was nothing.

Cosette searched too, but she was looking inside herself. Listening. Trying to understand.

"Drive." she urged him. "Drive."

And he did. The sounds had not been too far away. More proof she didn´t need to know that Pascal had led them well, following the tracks they had found. Tracks that could have been from anyone, but something had told her, it had not been from just anyone. That those tracks would lead them to her Papa and Javert and Michelle. Sweet Michelle. Oh God, what had just happened?

The wood gave way to a depression just before the land rose again, up a steep hill. And at the bottom of this hill … there was hell. They had just about spotted this burning wreckage when a new thunder came rumbling upon them. But this time it came from behind.

Cosette ducked down, expecting to be overrun. And then five horses dashed past them, like a raging army. They were surrounded, two riders stopping just by their sides. And when Cosette saw his face, her blood ran cold.

"I knew it was a good idea to follow you." Taillon shouted, his horse still dancing nervously. "What did your friends do?"

But before Cosette could even think of an answer, she heard the cry of a voice, between all the noise down at the hill. Between all those shouts of men and horses, there was a girl´s voice.

Her eyes darted down. And there she was, running towards the police. Calling for help.

"Michelle!" Cosette wanted to jump off the cart but Taillon blocked her way. His gaze was cold and rigid. You stay right here, it said. But Cosette was not the only one determined to get down to the girl.

Marius spurred the horse into motion again, driving the cart downhill before Taillon or his second man could do anything about it.

Michelle instantly dismissed the police when she saw them, and this time Cosette was not stopped by a police man. She caught the girl in her arms, embracing her and thanked God a thousand times.

Only this girl would not indulge in her embrace for longer than a second.

"Javert´s hurt!" she instantly told her. "Your father stayed with him, up the hill. Someone needs to help them!"

Cosette swirled around to Marius, just when Taillon reached them. One of his men – the three that had used their precious time by questioning the workers of this railroad – came forward to report,with determined efficiency.

"Sir. There are some injured men back there. One severe."

"Casualties?"

"Not yet. They could get out of the way in time. But this one man needs a doctor."

"Take care of that."

"Yes sir. And sir. One of them says he saw two men, tempering with the hoist before it exploded. He says one of them was a gypsy."

"It wasn´t them!" Michelle instantly shouted, scandalized. "It was those men who took me. It was all a trap."

"She said Javert is hurt." Cosette reminded, demanding Taillon´s attention. "We need to find and help them."

"We will." Taillon assured her, cold and determined. "And you will stay in our custody until we can sort this out. Sergeant. Have an eye on these people. I´ll question them later."

"Yes, sir."

And with that Taillon was gone.

They stayed, watched by this one police man, and all this time, Cosette wanted to break out. She wanted to run up that hill and search for her father. Who knew what these men would do when they found him. But what could she do? She had two kids under her and Marius´ care. So she stayed, until the police returned.

Javert and her Papa were not with them, and the way they talked they had not found their bodies either. Cosette felt relieved, only until Taillon ordered to escort them back to Lyon. She had seen enough of this man to know what escorting really meant. It meant they were arrested. And this time it wouldn´t be just a slap on the wrist, like before when he´d threatened Marius. Her Papa and Javert were suspected of sabotage!

Two of Taillon´s men were ordered to bring them back to town. Taillon himself and the rest of his little troop would stay behind. To help the workers. Or better yet, to keep up the search for Javert and Valjean.

"They can´t really think, Javert and your father did this." Pascal hissed, angry, and Cosette gently shushed him. The boy was right. It was insane but Taillon had opened up his mind and he believed exactly that. And if Michelle was right, and Javert was really hurt that badly, the two of them had no chance at all out there. Not without help. But how could they possibly help them if they were brought back to Lyon to sit tight, maybe even in a cell?

The answer was simple. They couldn´t.

They had left the wreckage side behind for like ten minutes, when Cosette turned around to Michelle and the boy. The two kids met her gaze, and held it. For a moment no one said anything, until Cosette gave Michelle a tight hug, whispering into her ear. She knew the girl would understand, and she knew Pascal was bright enough to catch up without any words. Just as Marius would understand. She could see that in his eyes too. He asked her, with his gaze only, if she was sure. If she was sure she was ready for this. And the answer was yes. She was.

Without a warning Marius spurred the little cart into motion again, trying to outrun the two police men. But just when they must believe this was exactly what he was up to, spurring their horses to catch them, he yanked the reigns back, and stopped the cart. The two police horses rose to their rear feet, just like the horse pulling their cart, and Cosette jumped off. The police men needed only a moment to regain control of their horses, but that moment was enough for the four of them to vanish between the trees, each of them into a different direction.

* * *

 **Even though I have been a little unfaithful (which I swear I´ll try to better) you can still tell me what you think. Your words remind me of the Reason why I do this.**


End file.
